Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Death is creeping up on all of us. We all know this fact, and yet when coming face to face with it for the first time in a very personal manner, I'm scared out of my mind. I've lost people and pet's over the years, and I'm always left with a void in my heart in honor of that person. My Grandpa has been ill for the last couple of years, in and out of the hospital, functioning at times, and at other times, not at all. It hurts me to the core to watch him suffer. The scary part, after all these years, is that it's finally coming close to the time that it's going to be a reality. Possibly one of the saddest thing I've ever had to experience. He has had Empahzima for years, and yes... cigarettes did it! My grandpa, in many ways has been that father figure fulfilled in my life. He took me on vacations, traveling with Myself, My sister, and Grandma. Allowing for us to see some of the most amazing sights available in the united states. Mt. Rushmore, Yellowstone national forest, the great redwoods, The Grand Canyon, and the many little hidden away Indian villages across the states. I have so many great memories from these trips. Getting lost on the Indian trails, Him tricking us into believing he was going to slip and fall into the Grand Canyon, Visiting the sand dunes, and believing they were Quick sand, My sister and i getting royally busted by the people traveling behind us on the highway for discarding an entire box of tissues, one at a time, out of the back window of the car... Staying in a hotel and singing The song "It's raining , it's pouring, the old man is snoring," and actually having him get out of bed and bump his head on the T.v. attached to the wall. And my most favorite memory ever, being in Girl scouts, about 8 years old, and having My grandpa accompany me as my date for the father daughter sock hop.. where Casey was also accompanied by Uncle Donny, grandpas brother. I will always cherish my amazing relationship with him, and I am so glad to have been able to have so many great times in my life shared with him. I will forever have the image of me and him sitting at that table at the sock hop, sipping out of the same milkshake with two straws.

The spirit ofmarijuana is female. She is alluring, very seductive. In her presencetime passes almost without one noticing. Her sweet fragranceintoxicates the senses and uplifts the mind. She is delighted by heroicmen and sensual women. When a couple shares marijuana, they areallowing her participation in their relationship. Accepting theirinvitation, the spirit of marijuana adds spontaneity and humor, andalso acts as a potent initiator. By bringing the couple into herdimension, the spirit of marijuana exalts and magnifies both love andsensitivity.

By Abracadabra we signifyAn infinite number of things.'Tis the answer to What? and How? and Why?And Whence? and Whither? — a word wherebyThe Truth (with the comfort it brings)Is open to all who grope in night,Crying for Wisdom's holy light.

Whether the word is a verb or a nounIs knowledge beyond my reach.I only know that 'tis handed down.From sage to sage,From age to age —An immortal part of speech!

Of an ancient man the tale is toldThat he lived to be ten centuries old,In a cave on a mountain side.(True, he finally died.)The fame of his wisdom filled the land,For his head was bald, and you'll understandHis beard was long and whiteAnd his eyes uncommonly bright.

Philosophers gathered from far and nearTo sit at his feat and hear and hear,Though he never was heardTo utter a wordBut "Abracadabra, abracadab,Abracada, abracad,Abraca, abrac, abra, ab!"'Twas all he had,'Twas all they wanted to hear, and eachMade copious notes of the mystical speech,Which they published next —A trickle of textIn the meadow of commentary.Mighty big books were these,In a number, as leaves of trees;In learning, remarkably — very!

He's dead,As I said,And the books of the sages have perished,But his wisdom is sacredly cherished.In Abracadabra it solemnly rings,Like an ancient bell that forever swings.O, I love to hearThat word make clearHumanity's General Sense of Things.

My mother’s mother,Eunice Jean Hurt. I’ve always known myFather’s mother, and she has been in my life since I was born. In the case of my mom’s mom, unfortunatelyshe left our plane many years before my mom herself was even able to get toknow much of her own mother. My mom was8 years old when her mother passed. All Iever really knew of her or my grandfather, was that she was a spiritualteacher, and laying on of hands healer, and that her and Yale, my grandfathertraveled in some of the popular Hollywood circles at the time, and that theywere very much into the theories of life on other planets. i.e. Aliens. ....

Much to my relief, at my ripe age of 26years old, I finally came across something that spoke of her. 8 pages of a book written many years ago, theman speaks so wonderfully of her that I have the urge to share thisinformation. He was one of her studentsthat later went on to more learning in the field that she taught, and wrote abook on the topic. ....

Below is the exactexert from the book: Chapter 5 pages 96-104....

And so he writes....

The initial phases of my professionallife, death and the incurable were emotionally unacceptable to me because theyindicated failure on my part. I stillbattle the “incurable” and ideas about death. – But not alone; I have invited the patient to do battle along withme. ....

The wall between the intuitive and therational had begun to weaken during my residency at the Mayo Clinic. When I finished my residency, the wallcrumbled. My interest in to metaphysicswas rekindled as a deep yearning to explore higher states ofconsciousness. The awareness that I wasto meet Eunice quickened me during my first year and a half in privatepractice. ....

In October 1971, a male patient who camein for a routine checkup suggested that I might enjoy meeting his spiritualteacher. We had already talked brieflyabout Metaphysical healing concepts, but I wasn’t yet prepared to accept hisinvitation. After all, there are so manyfunny cults in southern California. (Onecartoon puts it beautifully with a signpost on a desert highway: “You are nowleaving California, resume normal behavior.”) But when my teacher mentioned that the teacher was a “She” and that hername was Eunice Hurt, I was overwhelmed with excitement. My god,I thought, the intuitive flash was correct. But I didn’t drop my stethoscope and dash over to meet her. I knew that I was going to study with her,and I knew the timing of our meeting had nothing to do with my personal need orexcitement. In fact, I wasn’t to meether for six weeks. ....

The moment came on a Saturday afternoon inDecember 1971, when the patient called and said that Eunice would like to meetme. I was nervous because my outerthinking was that she might not accept me. The pull toward this woman was not normal; it was paranormal, and I knewit. ....

She was living in a small house in VanNuys, a suburban community in the San Fernando Valley, the “Bedroom” of LosAngeles. When I entered the living room,where she was seated, my heart pounded and my palms were perspiring. She stood, looked me over carefully, thenlaughed and opened her arms to me. Theradiance of her Beingness was Love made manifest. I was swept into a state of ecstasy. It was an internal ecstasy, because I wasalmost motionless, caught in a state of sensing the Divine, while my outer mindwas left contending with the appearances. ....

Eunice was 46 years old, but what I wasfeeling was an ageless “Old” soul, a temple of ancient wisdoms with a presenceI did not have to try to feel, but that enfolded and uplifted my own. We did not speak for several minutes. Then, with perfect eye contact, a mutual “Yes”was whispered.....

I cried when I returned home. In fact, I cried all that night and all thenext day. The tears were not of sadnessnor of grief nor of pain nor of suffering; they were tears of inexplicablejoy. I had recognized her Beingness, and when I use the word recognize, I mean the deep recognitionthat is so very rarely experienced – the remeeting with a soul one has lovedand respected in past lifetimes. She wasbrother, teacher, mother, sister, father, son and wife. She was spiritual coworker, fellow Buddhist disciple,Zen master and ancient Egyptian teacher of the healing arts. Our souls were entwined over many differentlifetimes, always for the purpose of helping to awaken one or the other, andusually to help one or the other to cross over when death came. A week before she died, Nine months after I startedto study with her, she told me this last detail – a detail I already knew. She will be present at my own death. ....

Meeting somebody from a past lifetime isactually a very common occurrence, but one that is filtered from the othermind, which is fundamental to the essence of Life. I do not intend to dwell on concepts of reincarnationnor to develop convincing proofs. Whenone reaches a certain level of development, this knowledge enters the awarenessand needs no rationalization. ....

In December 1971 and January 1972, Iattended the last four weekly evening sessions of a series of sixteen classesEunice was giving to the public. Theywere followed by eight more classes, closed sessions, with attendance by herinvitation only. Much of the contentdealt with group-healing concepts, dream interpretation, metaphysicalprincipals and the teachings of Jesus. The deepest level of teaching did not begin until March 1972 when,according to an empress she had received, she took a few of her students into experientialrealms of awareness I had only read about.....

By the time she finished with me, I hadthrown down every last remnant of skepticism. I was defenseless, because her mastery of psi phenomena was nothingshort of miraculous. Her gifts oftelepathy, clairvoyance, and precognition were accurate and proved. She could if she desired, generate a forcefield that could knock over a huge and powerful man. Neither her student’s thoughts nor theiractions were unavailable to her. Therecould be no games or deception, because she knew the truth of one’s Beingness. As she told each one of us at the outset, itwas no trivial task to take on the responsibility of training even one student,let alone twelve. Because of our mutualcommitment, her awareness of each one of us was acute twenty-four hours a day. ....

I had never experienced unconditional Loveuntil the moment I met Eunice. Therewere no strings attached, and no judgments issued from her being about any ofthe more unsavory aspects of her students. She saw what she called the Divinity of each soul; the personality level and the confusion of the outermind were unnecessary to the induction process. She was the great awakener, and she knew it. The last three years of her life were ones ofministry and teaching. Even her childrenbecame secondary to this task. ....

Born and Raised on a farm in the mid-west,Eunice in her earlier years had experienced the poverty of the depressionera. She related many episodes of theparanormal, including actual physical body levitation, before adolescence. I am unaware of most of the details of herouter-Life… working her way through school, five marriages that ended indivorce, her outer training in metaphysics and the various places she hadworked as a secretary in Los Angeles. Her public lecture work and private counseling sessions had begunapproximately two years before we met. ....

She had an excellent mind and was quitecapable of concepts in the areas of advance mathematics, physics, history, andphilosophy. Although deeply knowledgeablein both the Old and New Testaments, she was eclectic in her approach toreligious principals. She drew from the BuddhistSutras, Sufi concepts, Hindu teachings, the cabala, hermetic philosophy, Zen Buddhistkoans and Islamic teaching; but fundamentally she always used a Christian modelon which to display these other teachings and principals. Even though she was profoundly religious,there was always the balance of her sharp intellect, which could cut to piecesa skeptic whose doubts were based on intellectual grounds. ....

To the external eye, she was ahard-working secretary raising a teenage son and daughter. She smoked two pack of cigarettes a day; usedlittle, if any alcohol; loved all kinds of food; occasionally fasted; hadtraveled little outside the united states; loved a good joke; could swear appropriately; dressed conventionally; bleached her hair;was very frightened of water, from ocean to swimming pool; tended to be mildlyoverweight; enjoyed conversation for hours on end; was a very strong fighterfor what she believed in; cared little for animals and plants; could play likea child; did not personally like everyone she met; and could lose her temper, particularlywith her children. That was Eunice ather personality level. ....

But when she blended with more expandedportions of her Beingness, as she could do in the blink of an eye, she wassaintlike, a totally different entity, whose words were like liquid light whosepresence was sheer manna. ....

In metaphysical terms, she had developedthe ability to blend with her high self instantaneously, demonstrating Christconsciousness – the essence of Love. ....

Thus, Eunice was a real person, withproblems just like those of any other human being, but with one exception: shewas awake. There was no need in her tomeet the expectations others may have desired her to meet, to deceive people bydisplaying only her sainted pattern or to gain personal power over others withthe use of her gifts. ....

When she was in her ordinary awareness,she was a light. When she was channelingspiritual principals and energies from another dimension, she was mind-boggling. It was through the difference between Eunice’sordinary awareness and her more expanded Beingness that I later learned to seethat to be the personality level is like a garment. It can serve the purpose of developingexperiences, but when it is no longer useful, when it can take one no further,it is to be discarded as a garment is discarded, as the body is discarded whenit is time to enter another plane. Once Ihad learned experientially that I did not have to stay in the personality level,once I knew that there were alternatives, I could begin the resolution ofproblems configured at the personality level. ....

The intensity of her teaching, sounselfishly showered on the small groups of individuals during the last ninemonths of her life, cannot be summarized fully – or even shared partiallywithout distortion. I can say that itwas like riding on the back of a winged horse as she took each of us intodimension after dimension of consciousness beyond the ordinary, through thepower of her inducting field, sharing wisdoms in the art of healing and in theachievement of self-realization. Meditationwas basic to her teachings. Anyone whocould not meditate missed the “inner plane” experience. In my case, meditation freed my identity frommy outer mind. The impossible became possible, and the insoluble became itsown solution. ....

Keep in mind that during my study withEunice I was a totally orthodox internist, practicing the subspecialties of pulmonaryand cardiac medicine in addition to general internal medicine. I had not come into the awareness of bodyenergy fields, chakras, and the transmutation of diseased tissue. Traditional medical concepts dominated mypractice of medicine. I not only was onthe teaching faculty of the Hospital of the good Samaritan Medical Center, butwas also an assistant clinical professor of medicine at the Los Angelescounty/University of Southern California Medical Center (L.A. county hospital),teaching general and Pulmonary medicine to medical students, interns andresidents. In July 1972 Eunice coughedup some Blood. A mass lesion was notedin the left hilar region of her lungs. Withinthree days surgery was performed, but the prognosis was poor. The lesion was highly malignant, but not, asone might have suspected, the type of cancer associated with her smoking. It was a scar cancer, developing out of scartissue associated with an old granulomatous disease, probably a fungalinfection. ....

The dichotomy of Eunice’s Beingness becameevident. The personality level wasangered, frustrated that her life was going to end just as she was reaching theprime of her teachings. Her concern forher children dominated her thinking as she reluctantly began to put her affairsinto order. Her outer mind, feelingtrapped in an uncontrollable circumstance, cried out in anguish. The fear of pain occasionally obsessed herand made her plead with me to reassure her that I would not withhold narcotics. ....

She recuperatedfrom the lung surgery in the guest cottage in which she had trained our groupin spiritual work. There she related a supervividdream in which a station wagon, in which she was driving us all to an unknowndestination, broke down after climbing a steep hill. After the vehicle coasted down the hill intoan old gasoline station, a mechanic inspected the engine and told her there wasnothing to do, that it was irreparably damaged. In the dream she announced to us that we were all going to have to getout of the car and walk the rest of the way. ....

When she finished relating the dream therewas silence in the room. Weather theothers were able to interpretation of this dream into their awareness, I do notknow; but I saw it’s significance and discussed it with Eunice in a privatesession after that class. She was goingto die. Her body was beyond Cure, andall of us were going to have to find our own paths without her help. The dream occurred in spite of the evidencethat after surgery the cancerous process was not detectable. In her heightened awareness, she told me thatshe had deliberately related the dream to prepare her students for her death, whichwould take place toward the end of the year. ....

She also told me that earlier in the yearshe had had an impress that she was going to be called to a distant land, aforeign country. Her outer mind hadinterpreted this to mean a trip to the Far East. Now she knew that termination ofher physical form was to take place. Sherealized that her commitment in this lifetime had been fulfilled: she had beenhere to awaken certain individuals, and she had done so. She had no fear of the death process and, infact, would instruct me in the preparation for her death at the appropriatetime. Meanwhile, she refusedchemotherapy and radiation, because, though her outer mind clung to the hope ofa cure. She rejected palliation anddemanded either a complete cure or death. ....

There was still no postoperative evidenceof the cancerous process when she married Wendy and me on September 30,1972. Wendy and I flew to Tobago for ourhoneymoon and returned to the United States three weeks later to attend amedical convention in Denver, Colorado. One of her students telephoned me there to say that Eunice had beentaken to the hospital with abdominal pain. Wendy and I immediately flew back to Los Angeles. ....

When I examined Eunice, I found the cancereverywhere –in her abdomen, her neck and in her groins. One of her Physicians had told her that itwas of no concern and Eunice, in almost a childlike state of consciousness,believed him. I looked at her with tearsin my eyes, but she wanted to know the truth. So I told her; she had less than a month to live. She thanked me, because it made it clear thatthe preparation for her crossing had to begin. ....

Because the pain was so excruciating, sheasked me to begin the process of using morphine to place her in a coma so that herdeath would be accelerated by pneumonia, something I had on occasion done forothers who were nearing death. Ipromised her I would do just that and ordered morphine injections to be givenevery four hours around the clock, even if she seemed to be comfortable,asleep, or otherwise not in pain. It didn’twork. Despite very large doses, shewould not enter a coma; and finally, after three days, I spoke to her about herlack of cooperation. She laughed andsaid there must be more work to do. Evenif her outer mind wanted to escape the nightmare of pain, her soul was notready to leave. ....

Then she accomplished one of hermiraculous displays. In twenty-fourhours, she made the masses in her neck subside completely. She stated emphatically that she did not wishto die in a hospital, that she wanted to go home. She also wanted to demonstrate that thehealing of her body was possible, and that in dying she was going to yield toan inner calling. ....

We took her back to the guest cottage,hired a special nurse to be with her and awaited the inevitable. Eunice went on teaching, counseling each ofus until the last week. ....

On a Late November morning Eunice died,but not before telling her nurse that she saw two angels standing on eitherside of a man with a Christ like appearance who was beckoning to her. She raised up from the bed, sitting up withher arms out, then rested back on the pillow and died. ....

Yes Eunice had instructed me in the art ofdying, but my attachment to her on the personality level had prevented me fromfully appreciating at the time what a rich and valuable experience it was. With her death came physical grief and onlythen the full implication of her teaching. She had given each one of us the “key to the kingdom” we could continueto search for another teacher, but her teachings were amazingly complex. Another person might phrase the principalsdifferently, but the essentials were one and the same. We had to get out of the car and walk. ....

I began that walk by setting aside atleast an hour each morning to enter into a deep meditative state ofconsciousness. Sometimes it would meangetting up at four in the morning, after completing long days at the hospitaland in the office and retiring at midnight. I knew the path was internal and not external. There could and would be no further externalteacher. I had been given the gift of alifetime, and I knew it. Themanifestation of my own self-awareness was my responsibility and no one else’s. ....

How many times have I observed peoplesitting in living rooms, lecture halls or in mountain retreats, listening to aninspired teacher? Some of these peoplehad been doing the same thing for a year, five years, and even fortyyears. After all that time they stillpersist in failing to realize that the critical step is in being, no in what isspoke about being. Action must be taken,and that action is inside. ....

Almost two months to the day after Eunice’sdeath, I found my inner teacher…a state of consciousness that continues toteach me today. It is not a manifestationof Eunice or anybody else that I recognize in my outer mind. Its presence is radiant; and its wisdom,inspiring. ....

.. ..

These words mean a lot tome, as they clue me in as to what type of person my never known grandmotherwas. I know much more about her fromthis man’s encounter with her than I may have ever been able to know fromanother person. His words of her inspireme at the same time as they clue me in, to some things about my own self. Having never known her, I can tell from thisthat we would have been great healers together, and that her thought processesare some similar to my own as far as religion and spirituality in my life. There must be a reason that I was to nevermeet her, but whatever it is, I’m grateful for this small glimpse into to thelife of a woman, my grandmother, who seems to have been a woman I would have loveddearly, and admired much, had I had the opportunity to do so.

this lady came up to us as we were getting in the car to leave Mel's diner, and pointed to Zoe and asked who's child she was. I told her, She's mine, and Rusty's and pointed to him sitting in the driver seat.

she introduced herself, and said that she had a very overwhelming vibe coming from Zoe and that she will someday come to help many people, and be a great healer. She continued to explain what a unusual encounter it was for her to see a soul like her's, and was almost giddy, she handed me a card with her name and info, and offered to do a reading for us.

It's very weird.. if you read my blog about my mom's mom, and the research I've been doing about her, and what I've found.. you'll understand...

Why is it whenever a person is feeling down and expresses it, someass-wad has to come up and say "You shouldn't feel bad because MY life isMUCH worse!" Seriously? that is like a person with AIDS telling aperson with CANCER that they shouldn't feel bad because THEIR diseaseis MUCH worse! What kind of heartless pig uses this as an argument?

For instance, one time I had to listen to a multi-million dollar business man tellme how depressed he was that his company just lost 10 MILLION dollars.Instead of telling him that he has NO RIGHT to feel depressed losinghis hard earned money, I LISTENED. How can I not identify with someonefrustrated over losing something he worked so hard for? Even if I dowish I was in his position? What kind of worthless fuckwad would I beif I started jumping on someone who is obviously depressed just forhaving FEELINGS?

So, to those of you who walk through yourpathetic lives telling other people they have no right to have EMOTIONSbecause your life is SOOO pathetic and sad...you might want to dismountthat horse. it's a wee bit too high for your ass!

I must say that God's greatest Plant, Momma Ganja is my biggest vice(if you want to call it a Vice.) I became a medical marijuana patient in the state of California, under the senate bill 420, and Prop. 215. I was now 24, and suffering from sever gallstones and biliary colic.

I soon began to see the benefits of this "vice" for a lot of my aliments. At this time, i also stopped taking sleeping pills to sleep at night. I thought to myself, this is truly a gift of the gods. soon, i was no longer in need of pain meds to manage my gallstones while i was awaiting my surgery. It was truly amazing.

About a month after i became a Legal patient under state law, i became heavily involved in "the cause." I became the manager of my local marijuana dispensary, and learned the in's and out's of the business. I worked with people from all walks of life, including stage 4 cancer patients, Several people with MS, Terminally ill patients with ailments such as inoperable tumors and such, and even a very famous director, who has a sever case of turrets syndrome, and uses marijuana to control the verbal outbursts, and physical twitches involved with his disease. (he was my favorite, he would smoke a little cannabis, and suddenly the vulgar slurs and distracting grunts and moans that usually would come out of him turned into him whistling a beautiful rendition of Beethoven's symphony #5)

In conclusion, I would like to say that my vice provides me with medical relief, peace of mind, a creative outlook on life, and most of all, patience, understanding, and compassion for all living things. I cant say that I've meet many people in bars that have the same results with their use of alcohol. And i can guarantee that it would be like looking for a needle in a hay stack trying to find a user of any other substance that carried the same life values as the average daily cannabis user.